For what is deemed eternity
I have dwelt in the common sacred sins
	to which one might aspire 
in acquiring those longings that banish sleep
With wakeful, intermittent dreams
that disturbingly reside in morosely conscious hours
	where one fervently wishes
for the deafening silence of final conclusions
Whether to dream or to live 
for one who must always be more illusory than the dream  
	or touch beguiling hands 
and search for the sweet reassuring familiarity
of adoring gazes which grace all  
	save I and my shadows' regrets
Holds prison mournful souls for licentious aches 
when nothing prescribed should piteously give release
Surrounded by the ethereal butterflies 
that light hope in the corners of unconsciousness
	till my lonely, quivering hand
endeavors a caress
and flinches away with violent care
While retching sobs surge tremulously 
through the numb aching body
	of which I abide with lamentous grief

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16 Renford Road (three)
Page 12